


Liminal Period

by orphan_account



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: AU, Juvenilia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-23
Updated: 2001-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Toby meets Chris after being paroled from Oz. Things don't go smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liminal Period

Toby's lips twisted as the first mouthful of beer worked its way down his throat. It had been over a year since he had sought solace in alcohol. He was clean and sober and free, and Christ, he was still as fucking weak as ever, Toby thought as he brought his bottle to his mouth once again. Freedom wasn't what Tobias Beecher had thought it would be. He had left the world as a son, father, husband, an educated man, a professional, and he had come back harder, distanced by experience and the cool uneasiness of those around him.

Instincts awoken and honed in Oz alerted Toby to the man's approach. Tension crept through him--making his back straighten, his fingers tighten around his beer bottle. He didn't belong in his old law office or the country club any longer, but Toby knew that this place wasn't his either. He had dressed simply, but each article of clothing he wore was probably more expensive than some of these men's entire ensembles. For all his experience, Toby knew he still looked soft.

There were stools free. The man chose one immediately to Toby's left. Toby didn't bother with subtly. He turned enough to face the stranger. Sharp lawyer's mind and former inmate's wariness worked in unison as Toby examined the man. Dark hair, strong profile, well-defined body beneath black t-shirt and faded jeans. His pose both casual and not--underlaying tension beneath self-assurance. Dangerous. Interested. Yeah, he had learned all sorts of useful things in Oz. He had learned fast to know when someone was after his ass. Beecher hadn't ever thought of the area in question as much of a prize, but any number of his would-be owners had expressed an enthusiastic interest.

The man's knee was resting against Toby's. Uh huh, Beecher thought, snorted lightly and took another deep draw from his bottle. "Don't bother," Toby said. He kept his voice level, cool, calm. "I'm not interested in your kind of company."

Straight teeth flashed in a lazy smile. "'Course, you wouldn't be here if you _weren't_," the man said.

His voice was all promise, sex and sin--more dangerous than the alcohol burning through Toby's system, than the nightmare reality twisting through Toby's brain. Christ, Toby thought and tried to reign in his quick breaths. He'd had any number of cocks down his throat, up his ass, and he'd never imagined seduction. Interesting. Terrifying. And maybe, Toby decided, he wasn't half as hard as he thought he was because at this moment, he wanted nothing more than to curl over and cry.

Toby's bottle clanked down, hard, empty. He fitted a sneer to his face--don't show weakness, don't let 'em see you shake--and he'd finally learned that lesson. Oz had provided a more useful education than Harvard, and wasn't that just fucking hysterical? Toby wanted to rock back, away from this man's hard body and silk-steel voice. He pressed forward instead. "Right. You're exactly what I'm looking for."

"Yeah, could be, baby." Toby's eyes rounded before narrowing at the final word. That infuriatingly knowing smile worked across the other man's lips once more. Apparently, Beecher wasn't the only one with little patience for subtly this night. "I can give you what you need," the man was rumbling, soft and smooth and impossibly fucking seductive. His hand had found its way to Toby's knee. Fingertips rested against the seam of Toby's jeans on the inside of his leg as that warm hand trailed upwards.

Toby's sneer trembled and fell away. He made a small sound--oh God, oh God, what was he doing here?--and jerked back. He couldn't think, couldn't breath, fuck this, fuck Mr. magic fingers--or not, as the case may be. "Don't touch me," Toby said, somewhere between a snarl and whine of distress. Maybe he'd have been face down by now, but this wasn't Oz, and he had a choice and he couldn't sit here one more minute, ohgodohgodohgod, fuck this! He nearly toppled from his seat, found his feet and made his way towards the door with something less dignified than a steady walk.

"What the fuck?" the man muttered.

Don't ask me, Toby thought wildly. Damned if I understand any of this, myself.

...~*~...

Chris stared after the rapidly departing blond with surprise. Well, that was certainly an. . . experience. He hadn't ever had that particular reaction before. If past experiences were any indicator, the guy should have been diving for Chris' dick by now. Chris chuckled--he'd taken on more of a challenge than he had expected. And that was just. . . _fine_.

The blond was across the street, glumly considering the broken pay-phone when Chris left the bar. Chris hooked his thumbs through his belt-loops--see, no threat here; hands safely removed--and sauntered towards the other man. The blond was practically quivering with tension and Chris was startled by the idea that he had badly misjudged the man. The other man had gained Chris' attention the moment he had slunk into the bar. Attractive and defensive, he'd ignited Chris' interest and made want curl in his stomach. He hadn't thought he'd spook the guy.

"Hey," Chris said softly. "Look, I didn't meant to startle you in there," he continued when the blond stiffened but didn't make any signs of running.

The blond watched him from beneath lowered lashes, bitting lightly at the inside of his lip. Ah, Christ, Chris thought, don't go doing _that_ if you expect me not to jump you. "You didn't startle me," the other man said, precise and cultured and far too good for someone like Chris.

"Uh huh," Chris drawled.

"Uh huh," the other man affirmed. "I just," he shrugged and fell silent.

"Rough day," Chris said, offering the man an excuse.

"You could say that," and he smiled, small and tight. He shuffled back a step and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes were still wary and fixed on Chris.

Fuck, he was skittish. "I'm Chris."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Chris echoed, vaguely amused.

"Toby."

"Pleased to meet you, Toby." This was damned strange, this slow verbal advance. "I hope I didn't offend you or anything," Chris ventured--just wanted to fuck you, you're fine by that, right, Toby? Yeah, because Chris Keller knew want, knew sex, and there'd been more there than his own lust-shaded imaginings.

Toby huffed lightly. "You didn't offend me. That was simply something of a new experience. Your technique is a bit. . . overwhelming."

Chris grinned, keeping his teeth shielded. "I know what I want, and I go for it." He paused, sliding a bit closer to Toby. Risky, but Chris reached out and brushed his fingertips across Toby's jaw. Warm and soft, and oh yeah, this was going to be way better than any of the others. "But I can go slow, if that's what you want."

Toby backed away, eyes narrowing. "I don't want--not slow, not you, not anything, got it?"

"You're still here. With me," Chris said.

Toby's eyes shone in the darkness. His mouth worked and he shook his head. "I don't believe this," he muttered, more to himself than Chris. "You're insufferably arrogant," he said, the rise in volume making clear that this observation was meant to be heard.

"Simply calling it like I see it."

"I'll rectify the situation, then," Toby said. He scanned their surroundings, furrowed his brow and then resolutely turned on his heels and walked away.

Chris' lips quirked. He caught up to Toby in several long strides and fell into step behind him. Annoyance screamed clearly through Toby's body and the sidelong glance he cast in Chris' direction. "You have any idea where you're going?" Chris asked. Toby ignored him. "You don't have a ride," Chris said when Toby made it clear that he wasn't about to supply an answer.

"What business is that of yours?"

"This ain't a nice neighbourhood, Toby. I'm just looking out for your best interests."

"A real good Samaritan."

Huffy fucking _bitch_. "Okay. Okay, fine," Chris said and stopped. "You know what you're doing? Go ahead, then." He wheeled around and headed back towards the bar. There was challenging, and then there was downright annoying.

"Asshole," Toby growled.

Chris kept on walking.

"Oh fuck this. Chris!"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, sorry. What, you want a nice blowjob to complete the apology, that it?" Toby said, something dark and wild behind his eyes. He didn't sound like a nice boy anymore. This moment was all rage and hurt and danger and Chris couldn't believe how badly he'd read this entire situation with Toby.

"Hey. Toby, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to." He held his hands up, palms out, before fitting his thumbs back into his belt-loops. "C'mon, I'll give you a life home or let you use my phone, if you'd rather."

Toby drew in a breath, held it for a long moment and then released it in a long hiss. "Sure. I could use a ride."

...~*~...

Toby slowly unwound his arms from Chris' waist. His hands were trembling slightly--as much from the alcohol and confrontation with Chris as from the motorcycle ride. He pulled off his helmet and handed it to Chris.

"Nice place," Chris commented, and Toby heard an echo of the tone he'd heard from all the others. Rich, nice home, nice family, soft life, weak little bitch, aren't you, _Tobias_?

Toby swallowed and shrugged. "I guess so, yes," he answered, a bit defensive. He worked his way off the motorcycle and stood uncertainly between Chris and his driveway. It was nice, all of it, and Toby wondered why he hadn't realized he'd never really been happy here.

Chris caught Toby's wrist, lightly. "Where'd they send you, Toby?"

"Does it matter?"

"Nah. Not really, I guess," Chris shrugged.

Toby's lips thinned. "You can tell? Just like that?" he wondered.

Chris smiled, something completely different from the previous smiles he had directed towards Toby. He didn't like this smile any more than the others. "Not just like that. Shoulda figured it out sooner. I've seen that face before."

"Did you really?"

"Yeah. I did." Chris' hand slowly drew away from Toby. "It gets better, after a while."

"Yeah?"

"A bit."

"Hey, Chris."

"Toby?"

Toby solemnly regarded Chris. "I'm not ever going down on my knees again," he said. Safe enough to say at this moment, knowing that he'd never see Chris again, "but if anyone would tempt me, it'd be you."

"Toby."

"Good night, Chris."

"Yeah."


End file.
